Poems (Botta)/An Apology for Sadness
AN APOLOGY FOR SADNESS.
When, in the miser’s eager gaze, His countless treasures lie,Then most his coward spirit sinks, With dread of poverty.
And when I felt within my grasp, The treasure of thy love;The insatiate avarice of the heart Fierce with my spirit strove.
It troubled the clear fountain where My thirsting soul had quaffed,And mingled tears of bitterness With the delicious draught.